Author: Mirrordance

Title: The Plague

Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…

Part 8, "Redemption"

___

Borders of Hollin

___

      The company did not stop for anything.  Silently, they had stalked through Moria in profound eagerness to depart it.  It is only after hours and endless hours later that they finally stepped out of the west gate, met by the light of the late afternoon sun of the day after they had gone inside.

      Looking at each other in wonder, Sam turned to Elrohir and exclaimed, "You were right! None who had gone down there lived to tell the tale.  Look at us, we all look like ghouls!"

      The dust from the collapse of the treasuries had gathered in their hair, clothes and faces, making them all look like walking ash-gray sculptures.  Their eyes were tired and bloodshot.

      The company each found a place to sink down upon and sit.  They were weary, and undoubtedly needed rest and recovery.  For instance, the persistent bruises of Elladan were not completely hidden by his clothes and the dust; glaring streaks of red, purple and blue wound about his neck, where the pool's beast had twined its muscular tentacles.  From the stiff, guarded way he moved, there was little doubt that his torso, which had also been ensnared, was just as injured.

      Legolas too, had taken a turn for the worst, and was sitting quietly, with eyes looking longingly and distantly away at something only he could see.  His hands were clutching Pandora's box so tightly that they shook, and he held the precious treasure close to his body, as if his life depended on it, and maybe for now, it did.  Like Elladan and Triste, who were the last searchers in the water, Legolas had shed his coats and outer tunic for the dive, and these were left when the company hurriedly escaped the collapse.  Clad in just his pants and a thin shirt, there was little surprise that even an elf like him could be cold, even in late afternoon.  But Aragorn, who had been looking at his old friend and knowing what this general decline meant, could not dismiss it so easily.

      The King fell to one knee before the elf, who had looked up at him after a distracted moment.  The light in his eyes were dimming, and Aragorn knew then, that even the strongest of wills could be claimed by this plague, the bravest of the brave, even the stoutest of hearts.

      Legolas raised the box in offering to Aragorn.  "As promised," he said softly.

      "I did not make you swear to me all for the success of this," Aragorn told him, matching his lowered voice, "I wanted you to swear to me so you would not lose yourself."

      "Maybe it was never my promise to make," Legolas said flatly, "I am so sorry, Estel.  I lived by it as much as I was able."

      Aragorn's heart sank, hearing his friend speak in these ridiculously broken past tenses, "You still live," he pointed out, taking the box from Legolas, who had to wrest his own stiff fingers from it one by one.  With it, he had released the last of his iron resolve.  He felt that he has done his duty by this quest, and had to turn to his own battles.

      "I'm sorry too," Aragorn said after a moment.  He laid the box reverently upon the ground, and removed his coat, draping it about his friend's shoulders, "It was unfair of me to have asked such a promise from you.  And yet you had done well by it.  You have redeemed your word to me."

      Legolas met his eyes squarely and nodded.  "Thank you," he whispered.

      "Now I have my own word to give to you," Aragorn said, "I will capture this plague and you will have your hope back.  All of Rohan and Pippin will as well.  And those demented orcs will be cast back into the shadows from which they came.  We will rise from this."

      "When did you not?" Legolas said, finding a smile left in him, which Aragorn gratefully returned. 

* * *

      Elladan let himself be bandaged by Aragorn, enduring the relatively painful treatment with just a grit of his teeth.  Aragorn had tended to him after redressing Legolas's forearm wound, which the elf had taken note of.

      "I did not know Legolas was injured as well," Elladan said through his teeth, "It is an old one.  You were re-dressing."

      "He was bitten," Aragorn admitted, "He is losing his heart, if he has not lost it already."

      "I thought he seemed distracted," Elladan said wistfully, "What light there is from Mirkwood dims in his eyes."

      "He has fought it long and valiantly," said Aragorn, "But I know this quest ends for him, now.  And I need your help."

      "Anything," Elladan offered.

      "Take him to Rivendell," said Aragorn, "We cannot bring him with us for the rest of this arduous journey."

      "Of course," Elladan said, though his eyes narrowed at the King, "I think this is very clever of you, though."

      Aragorn's brows rose in 'innocent' inquiry.

      "My bearing Legolas away," said Elladan, "also bears me and my own injuries away from the frontlines.  And yet you know I cannot deny you this duty.  Hm," he reiterated, "Truly very clever of you."

      Aragorn grinned shamelessly at him.  "Why thank you."

* * *

      "Be safe, my friend," Gimli said to Legolas gruffly, patting the elf's leg.  Legolas was already upon a horse and by now had gone beyond words, barely even looking at the dwarf in acknowledgement.  He and Elladan shared the latter's horse, with Legolas sitting in front, encased by Aragorn's coat and Elladan's sure arms.

      "I would go with you," said Gimli, "but I do not think it is my axe that you need right now."

      "I'll take care of him, Master dwarf," Elladan assured him, before glancing down at his brother, ~Try to stay out of trouble.~

      ~Tell that to yourself,~ Elrohir said wryly. 

      Elladan gave a nod to Aragorn, before pulling on his horse's reins, willing him to run.  The company watched them leave as the sun began to set, and did not speak until the sound of the clacking hooves have faded in the distance.

      "They shouldn't run into any trouble," said Gandalf, "If the orcs have indeed gathered to attack Gondor and Rohan, they would not even cross paths."

      "The blasted elf didn't tell me he was bitten," grumbled Gimli, "such a reckless race."

      Elrohir raised an eyebrow at him, but bit his tongue, the dwarf's worry lacing the tone of dismay not lost on him.  He turned to Aragorn instead. 

      "And what of the rest of us?" he asked.

      "Rohan fell to the plague first and is more weak now," said Aragorn, "the orcs would hit it first.  But the plague will go to Gondor, where uninfected men live," he winced, "if it has not already gone there.

      "My soldiers, and Faramir, will head to Rohan and lend her their arms.  Knowing Eowyn, upon the information that orcs are gathering, she would move her people to Helm's Deep," continued Aragorn, "But they are probably still in the Golden Hall because most of her people are ill and they do not have the manpower to move them.  Our soldiers will be more needed there than in Gondor, where a sizeable contingent remains to defend it.  The rest of us will head towards Gondor and try to capture the plague.  We leave as soon as we are ready."

      As the troupe gathered their meager belongings, Aragorn turned to Gandalf with a lowered voice, "We have the box.  But how does one get this plague inside? Do we jump it? Do we run after it? Or have you any spells?"

      "None in my immediate recollection," replied Gandalf, "but I shall consider this along the length of our journey.  The gods managed to place the plagues inside the box, and I cannot imagine them running around like fools trying to catch them.  There must be a spell.  And I will most certainly think about it.  If I could not… then we run after the slithering beasts like idiots.  We've gone this far, I certainly do not mind the indignity."

      Aragorn smiled wryly at him, "Good plan."

___

Road to Gondor

___

      Night had fallen, but the group traveled tirelessly at this point, as if they felt the end was near and had given their mightiest efforts to this final stretch.  Gimli had Arod to himself, and was doing rather well for a dwarf.  Even the hobbits had grown accustomed to travel by horse, though the steed that Sam and Merry shared was slightly smaller and much more tame than the other horses.  As they always did, Aragorn, Elrohir and Gandalf (who was saddled with Frodo) were comfortable upon their ride, as their horses sliced through the ground with smooth precision. 

      They moved quickly and seldom stopped, and night had turned into day, and day once again into night, making Gimli remember the last time he had traveled so ceaselessly.  He, Aragorn and the blasted elf had been in pursuit of orcs who had taken their hobbit friends.  They ran cross-country.  They ran then, and it suddenly gave him comfort that he was riding this time.

      Never in my life, thought Gimli, did I ever think a dwarf would be so grateful to be upon a horse.

      Still they rode, and night turned to day once again, and day into night.  It was at this time, that they had at last reached Gondor.

      It was silent as a grave, and this was creating a chill in her King's heart, making him ride faster, his companions struggling to keep pace as he rode into the capital.

      The towns they passed were quiet, disturbingly empty.  This lent despair to Gimli's heart; were they too late? Had Gondor fallen into hopelessness, as Rohan had?

      They slowed their horses as they moved through the heart of the town.  There was no one here.

      "The elf and I came upon Rohan in a similar state," Gimli said to Aragorn quietly, "Aragorn…"

      "No," Aragorn said stonily, "This cannot be.  No."

      Prompting his horse to move faster, he rode so quickly and desperately that his companions trailed behind him, as he headed towards his palace. 

      He paused at its gates, eyes raking across its face.  There were torches lit everywhere, and the palace seemed heavily barricaded though he could not sight a single soldier on the perimeter, as there usually was.

      "Open the gate!" he commanded from outside, "Open the gate!"

      There was a breathless, quiet moment, as he waited for a response.  Any response.

      "Estel!" exclaimed Elrohir suddenly, releasing an arrow at something he had sighted in the dark, flying towards Aragorn.

      "It's that infernal beast!" Gandalf exclaimed.

      "Stay close," Aragorn told them, drawing his sword.  Pandora's box he hid within his tunic, its weight an assurance of its presence.  It soon occurred to him that being the only folk around, the plague would want to hit them.  Specifically, him, a man, for whom this curse was meant.

      Elrohir's arrows met their mark, and in the glow of the multitude of torches from the palace, they saw exactly what it was that preyed upon the hope of men.

      The plague indeed look like a lizard, though with its wings and ominous black, and its glowing eyes and sharp fangs, it looked more like a small dragon.

      It screeched when Elrohir's arrows hit it, and its flesh parted where it was injured.  The arrows went through it, then the skin joined together again, as if he were made of smoke, or thick water.

      The arrows injured it little, and in moments it returned to full strength, but at least they were enough of a distraction.  The plague flew over their heads, and soared to poise itself for another attack.

      Suddenly, it screeched again and was downed by arrows coming from the palace walls.  Aragorn looked up, and found his soldiers there.  His heart was warmed by the sight of them.

      The gate opened, laboriously because it was heavily weighed by the extra barricades.  The company hurried inside, and soldiers quickly shut the gate behind them.

      Aragorn found his palace overrun by his people; soldiers and townsfolk had set up a refuge here, and it was crowded but the people seemed well and unhurt.

      "Sire," a footman greeted him, taking the reins of his horse as he hopped from it.

      "Where is the Queen?" Aragorn demanded.

      "Here."

      He whipped at the sound of her voice, and Arwen threw herself upon him, holding him tightly.

      "Welcome back," she said, "I should not have feared for you."

      "Nor I for you," he said, with a small smile as he looked around, "I first thought that Gondor had fallen."

      "We knew the plague was upon us when some families living in the outskirts fell," she said, "We evacuated everyone here, thinking that though it leaves our borders open, our people are more safe in one fortified place.  The beast has been stalking the palace since, trying to find a way inside, knowing that all of its preys lie here."

      "Don't I get a hug from my sister?" Elrohir said from behind Aragorn.

      Arwen pulled away from her husband and favored him with a smile, ~Where there is trouble…~

      ~There I am,~ sighed Elrohir, ~Yes, yes, I know.  Elladan is safe with ada in Rivendell, if you were wondering.  Legolas was bitten, and he took him.~

      "We have the box!" Merry said excitedly, "We can capture this beast, and free Legolas and Pippin and Rohan and everyone from their despair! Just in time for us all to defend ourselves from the coming orcs! What a surprise they would get thinking they would come upon sleeping targets.  Ha!"

      Aragorn drew the golden, jeweled box from his tunic.  "I've not opened it," he confessed, "There couldn't be another plague inside this one, could there?"

      "Certainly not!" said Gandalf, though he did not volunteer to open it either.  It seems Pippin's mistake had made them all cautious.

      Aragorn lifted the lid slightly and peered inside.  Then he opened the box completely.  There was nothing there, and the group unknowingly released a collective sigh of relief.

      "We do indeed have a box," smiled Frodo.

      "And I think I have a spell," Gandalf said in surprise, looking at the lid of the box closely, noticing shallow golden engravings that he had not seen in their rush from Moria, "what do these look like to you?"

      Arwen frowned.  "They seem like designs of flowers, a forest, people… interspersed with the jewels.  Why? Surely it is just art?"

      "It's an old language," said Gandalf, "without letters or words, represented instead by pictures and codes.  We have a spell!"

* * *

      A box.  A spell.  And willing bait.

      The plague wanted only humans, then it would most certainly get one out in the open, waiting for its dreadful bite.

      Sam, Frodo, Merry, Gimli, Arwen and Elrohir readied their weapons; they could risk going outside because they were only secondary targets.  Gandalf held the golden box and twirled the spell around in his head.  And Aragorn-the-willing-bait clutched at his sword.

      All eight of them climbed up towards the roof of the palace cautiously, trailed by some of Aragorn's soldiers along the stairwell.

      "What I do not understand is," asked Sam, "Why would the old gods place a kind-of undoing upon their own spell?"

      "With all my heart do I respect the gods," disclaimed Gandalf before replying, "but their relations with each other are oft-marred by one-upmanship and jealousies and loves and passions.  Such dramas you hear... a god wants one way, someone else wants another, they all end up creating rings around each other."

      "Good thing," commented Merry.

      Aragorn turned to his soldiers.  "Once we step out of the roof, shut the door behind us.  You do not want this beast going inside the palace."

      They stopped at the landing before a door.  Elrohir stepped out first, and the rest followed quickly.  Behind them, they heard the assuring shutting of the door, as Aragorn's men did, as always, what their King had told them to.

      "Come out, plague," murmured Merry, readying his sword.  Beside him, Frodo and Sam did the same.  Gimli was also in a fighting stance with his axe, and Elrohir and Arwen with bows and arrows.

      They were met by wind and silence for a few anxious breaths.  Suddenly, almost soundlessly, the lithe black figure descended from the skies, moving towards Aragorn.

      ~Head down!~ Arwen told her husband sharply, and he trusted her so greatly that he did as shje asked without question.  The arrow she had released zipped a hair away from his head and met its mark.

      The lizard screeched, and re-formed itself as it had before, but did not get far before Elrohir unleashed an arrow of his own.

      "Gandalf, hurry!" Merry prodded.

      "Don't rush me," murmured the wizard, setting his eyes upon the lizard, who by now had crashed to the floor, pounded by a volley of arrows that assaulted its body as soon as it regenerated itself.

      "The arrows would run out soon," Sam pointed out.

      "That's what we're here for," grumbled Gimli.  The company stood in a circle around the lizard, determined not to let it escape.

      Gandalf opened the box and stretched his arms out towards the writhing beast, murmuring words from an ancient language, that sounded so hollowed that they brought a cackle to the air, and shivers upon the spines of those who heard it.

      Lightning streaked angrily across the skies, and a wild wind was picking up, pounding at their clothes and their faces, making the palace torches dance.

      Gradually, Gandalf's voice became louder and louder, as the beast screeched and thrashed, and the night seemed to head towards a dreadful storm.

       "Return," Gandalf Commanded, lending his own brand of magic to the power of the old spell, "Return to your prison!"

      The beast screeched, a scream of agony so loud it hurt those who heard it, and it surely echoed clear across the lands.  As it opened its mouth in its profound anguish, strange glowing shafts of light tore through the body of the plague, creating a wild show of golden streaks soaring through the dim night sky.

      The light started to stream from its eyes, from the tips of its fingers, from its skin… the light was tearing the beast apart, until it was all light and strange black ash, that danced with the wind towards the box.  The very breath that all of this black ash entered the box, Gandalf shut it securely.

      Awed, the company looked up at the wildly beautiful show of streaking lights that had lit the sky.

      "And what about those?" Frodo asked.

      "I trust," replied Gandalf, "they would know where to return."

      "Open the gates," Arwen said delightedly, "Let the people see.  Such a sight they would probably never again lay eyes on."

___

Rivendell

___

      Elladan sat on a seat next to Legolas's bed, troubled by the sight of his old friend ailing.  Legolas laid upon his side, eyes clouded and dimly staring at… at nothing.

      The moon lent a glowing white light to the room from the window, and shadows of leaves and trees danced with the wind, the strange dark shapes playing about his expressionless, empty face.

      What a cruel curse this is, Elladan thought bitterly, it does not kill you, and yet it keeps you from living.  It lends no finality, only an unending despair.

      Suddenly, the wind picked up, and Elladan looked towards the window, feeling that it was a wind that was unfamiliar to him. 

      Perhaps a storm is coming, he thought miserably, to add to our profoundly ill-luck.

      Turning away from the window and reaching to pull Legolas's blankets higher over his shoulders to protect him from the cold, he hardly noticed the streaks of glimmering light that suddenly colored the night sky, shooting up from a distance.

      A few such streaks of light diverged from the others and swirled with the wild wind towards Rivendell.  Then these streaks divided again, and a solitary strand of light languidly flowed into the room of Legolas, Elladan practically jumping when he noticed it at last.

      The light played about Legolas's still form as Elladan watched in shock, just before it seemed to seep into his skin, lending it a yellow glow before it vanished altogether.

      Elladan watched Legolas's face anxiously.  The dull eyes closed slowly, his chest rose and fell in a sigh, before he opened his eyes and smiled.

      ~They did it,~ Legolas whispered, his eyes dancing. 

      Elladan banished all shock from his face, feigning indifference.  ~I don't know why you are even still surprised.~

      Legolas sat up, studied Elladan.  ~You look terrible.~
      ~You really should be a bit more pleasant,~ Elladan said flatly, though his eyes too held a deep gladness, ~You my friend, look much better than you had in days, however.~

      ~And I feel better,~ said Legolas, ~Would you want to follow our friends through to Rohan and Gondor?~

      ~The work would be done by the time we get there,~ said Elladan, ~But of course I want to see how everyone fares, and I am certain they would want to see you.~

      ~When do we leave?~ Legolas asked.

      ~Give it a few days,~ replied Elladan, ~It makes no difference now when we arrive, because the fight would surely be over anyway.  And besides… my ada sent for yours when he set eyes upon you, he felt that he should let King Thranduil know.  He would be mightily displeased with us if he had come all the way from Mirkwood only to find you gone.  And that, in turn, would mightily displease my ada.~

      ~They are often displeased,~ smiled Legolas, ~Then again, we are often in trouble.~

___

Rohan

___

      Though they no longer had the resources that they did when the Dark Lord reigned, a sizeable mass of uruk-hai with their weapons and their brutality would still make a force to be reckoned with.

      Like an efficient machine, they marched towards Rohan, stopping at the borders as they readied themselves for battle.

      They had traveled throughout the night, and had reached Rohan in good time, hours yet before the dawn, though the uruks did not really fear the light and the time mattered little to them, only that they wanted to attack as soon as possible.

      Some of them were snickering in anticipation for the bloodshed to come, and the rewards it promised; revenge, and property.  It was their time to lord over these lands.

      "Move out!" yelled their commander, and they took but a few steps forward before the presence of the Rohirrim was at last made known to them.

      Masters of horses indeed these warriors were, and had emerged from all sides, surrounding them completely, spears and swords at the ready.

      "This is a course," King Eomer told them flatly, mighty upon his steed, "You may want to rethink."

      The battle was over in a little after an hour, the Rohirrim emerging as victors, as they always had.

___

Gondor

___

      Things had already gone back to the way they always were, just days after this latest near-brush of men with complete devastation.  The townspeople had returned to their homes, tongues wagging in excitement over the latest events, children playing in the streets, pretending to be members of the company that had captured the plague.

      The real plague sat upon a table within the palace, the hobbits, Gimli, Elrohir, Aragorn, Arwen and Gandalf sitting around it, contemplating it.  Aside from the loose latch that kept it closed, it has also been tied with a rope from Sam, and reinforced with thick strands of leather and even bows from Arwen.  They could not risk this box opening again.

      "We can bury it, I suppose," said Frodo, "but it eventually will be found, don't you think?"

      "After Pippin," sighed Gandalf, "such an option would not sit very well with me."

      "We can bind it and tie some stones to weigh it down and toss it into the sea," suggested Sam.

      "The ropes would weather with time," said Aragorn, "and it may still be found and opened."

      "We cast it in iron," said Gimli, "the dwarves would know how best to do it.  It will be sturdy.  It will last through time.  Then outside, we engrave a warning in all the tongues and languages of men that it should not be opened."

      "I think the idea of the dwarf has some merit," Elrohir said coolly, making the dwarf look at him with suspicion, "Give me some credit, Master Gimli.  If I think an idea is good I would praise it.  Even if it came from a dwarf."

      "I think warnings would only pique the curiosity, don't you think?" asked Merry, "Whatever happened must not be forgotten, so people in the future would know not to open the treasure."

      "A wise suggestion," approved Gandalf.

      "Well then," said Aragorn, thinking of a consolidation of all the ideas, "Perhaps we should cast it in iron and, instead of warnings on its outside, place the story of what had happened upon it, in all the main tongues.  Lend it some art, create a monument.  The question is, where should it lie?"

      "In Rohan," said Gimli reverently, "the monument should lie in Rohan, where its brutality would never be forgotten in all the ages."

___

Rohan

___

      A couple of weeks later, all of the company would reunite in Rohan, and even Pippin had come from the Shire, profoundly irked that in the legends, he would only be known as the fool who had opened the box.

      "Better not to be known at all, I say!" he had said, not ceasing to talk since he had first laid his eyes upon his friends, "I bet if I had only come along, things would have been much better and quicker.  If only someone else had opened that blasted box!"

      "We missed you, Pippin," Merry told him, and this touched and embarrassed him enough to make him blush and quiet down, at least for the moment.

      Elladan and Legolas, as well as Aragorn's six soldiers who were bitten in Hollin had arrived also, about the same time as Pippin.

      "I've come to return your soldiers," Legolas said to Aragorn, smiling as he offered a neatly folded cloth to him, "and your coat."

      "I am glad to see you in possession of yourself," Aragorn said, as the two men embraced each other, "Welcome back."

      "And you, elf!" seethed Gimli from behind Aragorn, pushing the King aside, "Should have told me something!"      

      "Hello, Gimli," Legolas grinned, "I shall keep this in mind next time."

      "I would rather that there not be a next time like that," Gimli said, also embracing his friend, "blasted elf."

      More reunions abound, including that of the brothers Elladan and Elrohir, who restrained their affection for each other with humor and wryness, though their eyes were warm and kind.

      The day after the arrivals, at dawn, the company, and the survivors of Rohan soon rounded about the monument that the dwarves had made; it was shrouded in gray cloth and kept an intriguing secret design, one that Gimli had thought of.

      The dwarf shifted nervously.  The swiftness and quality by which the dwarves worked was nothing he ever had to fear for, but he wanted the design to capture the triumphant and glorious feeling of this difficult victory.

      "In honor of the fallen of Rohan," said one of the dwarf craftsmen, "and the brave company who had kept others from the fall.  Behold!"

      He pulled back the cloth, and a sigh of appreciation was heard throughout the gathered group.

      Pandora's box was indeed reinforced by iron and stone, though it was unseen and buried a meter below the ground.  Above it, however, a shiny onyx square foundation was built, upon which figures of polished silver and stone melded together in beautiful, thin, spun strands that soared through the air, looking like the shafts of the light of hope that had been released when the plague had been captured nights ago.  The polished surface of the silver caught the sunlight and cast it around in sparks, giving the sculpture life and texture.  It would do the same with the moonlight, and would give the sculpture the illusion that it was never the same; as the angles of the sun changed, the reflections would be thrown a different way, showing new shadows and angles.

      The people applauded, and some of those who had lost loved ones even wept in appreciation for the piece.

      "You've outdone yourselves," Legolas murmured to Gimli, who grunted and shifted and said nothing, embarrassed and pleased.

      "Let this be a reminder," Eomer said over the din of the crowd, who hushed to listen to their King, "Not of our fall, but of our rise in the face of hardship," he looked at Aragorn and the company who had aided him, "the kindness, and bravery of ourselves and our friends, and an ardent, shimmering hope, that must never be torn from us again."

      The people cheered as the sun rose higher into the sky, and shifted into animated talk, speaking with friends, admiring the sculpture, eating sweets that was served in celebration, just living life as it was always meant to be lived.  With great enthusiasm.  With friends.  With a strength that eagerly faced the coming of the day.

THE END

SEPTEMBER 27, 2003

SOME IMPORTANT NOTES:

ON MIDDLE-EARTH GEOGRAPHY.  I tried to use Tolkien's map in the travels of the group, and base the layout of Hollin and Moria upon the descriptions from "The Fellowship of the Ring," though the treasuries I made up on my own :)  I hope I managed to get my ideas that across.  I also made references to the events in Moria from "The Fellowship…," like the story of the submerged treasuries, the destruction of the bridge, and Gandalf's fall.  If I got anything wrong from canon, I'm really sorry, I wouldn't really call myself an expert  at this, but I tried to be as accurate as I could within my limited knowledge. ON ELLADAN AND ELROHIR.  This is the first time I've ever wrote of them.  I'm not really much familiar with the twins, but I based their characterizations with a very general elf-aloofness but also the passions and kindness of Aragorn, who had grown with them, and some humor.  I hope this is not too OOC. ON MY KIND REVIEWERS.  I think this fic would take even longer to write than it already has if not for you guys.  I want to say a super duper thank you for your kindness, and most importantly, your time.  I know I can get a little tedious :) I could not express just how much you encourage me to be productive.  A big, massive, unbelievable thank you! ON CHARACTERIZATION OF CANON CHARACTERS.  I'm a gigantic fan of Pippin, and while I truly did want him in the action, I could not resist giving him a little trouble that is typical of the sort that he always seems to find.  I could not imagined making anyone else the catalyst of this adventure.  Aragorn, whom I always depict as Estel; hope.  As I said before, he is like a rock, always steady, always dependable, but not square.  He has great passions and great charm as well, so I hope I managed to convey that.  Legolas, who is also a favorite of mine, I think has this great work ethic.  I matched the admirable movie-version of him with the more care-free book-version to come up with the proud but passionate, grounded and charming character you find here and in all my other stories about him.  I wanted him to be strong but also 'human,' and I hope that too came across.  I fear that I may have brought in too many characters to delve justly into all of their nuances, but I hope I was not too unfair in their representation. ON THE PLOT.  Inspired by the greek myth of Pandora's Box, which has always fascinated me.  Gandalf's remark about the greek gods and their passions is actually my own, and I hope no one finds it unfair :) I also hope the story is not too long and confusing, and there was a reasonable flow.  I also did not bother too much with the timing and time-setting of the story, for I am unsure how long journeys cross-country last, and I did not bother much to intersperse the storyline with what happened in the future according to the appendices in the book.  I wanted to tell the story, and I limited it to that and I hope I did not create too much confusion! :) Once again, thanks to everyone.  I'm sorry for any inconsistencies and thanks for your time.  C&c's are perpetually welcome :)